How To Teach An American About Importance Of Tea
by MytagoSeeker
Summary: England is tired of his lover not treating his favourite beverage properly. He needs to find a way to catch his attention for long enough to teach him how to make a good cup of tea. Established USUK, fluffy doodles
1. Chapter 1

**How To Teach An American About Importance Of Tea**

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><p>"You know, love… the only reason you Americans don't understand our passion for tea is that you've never had a good cup."<p>

"That's so not true!"

"Oh, believe me." England smirked. "It is. You know… tea is much more than you think. It's not just a beverage. It's a philosophy. It's a heart and a soul and a strong reliable foundation of gentleman's daily routine."

"Eh, England… you really don't know how boring you are, hey?"

"Am I?"

The Englishman encircled the sofa his lover was sitting on and stood right in front of the American. He was wearing his usual sweater vest but something in his posture and in the look of his eyes seemed a little bit off. His back were too straight and too stiff. Green depths under his rather remarkable eyebrows were burning passionately and there were mysteries hidden in them… mysteries older than trees and rocks and the time itself… or so the American thought. _Err… What? _America shook his head. What was he suddenly thinking about? I must be the tea he had for breakfast. That stupid shit was always making him ridiculously poetic and England-like…

"Whatever." America quickly shrugged the weird feeling away. "I'm pretty sure you don't even know what you're talking about. The tea I had in the morning… which was by the way absolutely bland and horrible… was made from the leaves _you got me!_" He laughed. "Admit it, England. It's not my fault! It's yours, babe!"

England's eyes slightly narrowed but he smiled anyway.

"I'm afraid you still don't understand," he replied quietly. "Let me explain it."

America abruptly interrupted. "Why should I? That's gonna be boring, right?"

"Well, if you do, you won't be sleeping _alone on this sofa_ tonight!"

"Oh. _Oh! _I'm listening then!"

"Very good and… _mature_ decision," said England with a lot less sarcasm than he could use. After all he was gentleman and he was sure that if this conversation goes smoothly, there will be rewards for both of them. Preferably in form of good tea and good sex.

"High quality tea leaves are not the only thing making tea special," he started. "It is the whole _ritual _that is important…"

America was looking at him with a blank expression.

England knew he had to approach carefully. America, like lots of young adults these days, was easily distracted and it won't do any good if he didn't remember a thing afterwards, so first of all England had to catch and keep his attention. He had some ideas. He took a step closer… then another one and another, so he was touching America's knees with his own. Then, as casually as he could, he straddled his lover's thighs and sat at his lap.

Alright. American's eyes suddenly shone brighter. Attention was certainly caught.

England smirked again, even though a bit hesitantly. But if he had to go through this lesson as through _seduction_ then be it that way! It was for the sake of the tea!

"You Americans always pour hot water in the cup and then just haphazardly throw in some teabag. That's what makes your tea bland and distasteful." Smaller blond put his arms around taller man's neck and stared deeply in his eyes. "The water has to be _boiling." _And there was unspoken: _boiling like blood in my veins, boiling like my passion for you! _in that look.

"A-ah…" breathed America. "Okay. Boiling."

"You have to keep the leaves in the water for a certain amount of time which depends on type of the tea. It is about two or three minutes for the usual sorts of green or black tea. We can speak about specialties like Roibos or Oolong later, yes?"

America licked his lips. "Sure." So far this tea conversation didn't seem so bad… maybe they could another one later…

He caught England's face in his palms, leaning closer to the man and letting his breath tickle the sensitive skin around England's cute pink ear. The island nation let out a small startled laugh but he didn't shove him away.

"The green tea is best with no additions," England continued. "Don't even try to put milk or cream into it. The same goes for black Earl Grey. The scent of bergamot is too strong. If you like tender and smooth taste of tea with milk…" At the words _tender_ and _smooth_ England gave America two long and incredibly sweet kisses, "you have to use some Indian brands like Ceylon or Darjeeling or… heh… English Breakfast. They go well with it."

America will forever muse about _how the hell his freakish lover managed to make each kiss taste like different kind of tea?_

"Those three also can be served with sugar and lemon, honey, maple syrup if you're in Canada or…" he smiled mischievously, "even with rum if you prefer it that way."

"With rum? That sounds like some weird pirate kink of yours…"

"Actually, it's pretty good in the winter." England looked downright pleased. He didn't think he could keep America interested this long… "And it hasn't much in common with pirates. Tea isn't much good on the ship. You know, dear, there is an old knowledge telling us that the best tea should only meet water once."

"Huh." America looked bemused.

On the other side, the island nation almost _sparkled_ with excitement.

"What exactly that saying means?" asked America. He was almost feeling the rocking of the ship and smelling the salty breeze and it was definitely fault of that damned morning tea! Or maybe it was because of that man on his lap. In those green eyes were forests and stone circles and large empty widths of the sea… _oh fuck. Not again_, the American mentally slapped himself. He put his hand rather low on the Englishman's back to distract himself from unwelcomed poetic images.

"It means that the best tea is from leaves which never got wet before," explained England. "That is why the best tea, for example from China, wasn't shipped over the sea but over the land even if it was slower and much more dangerous and expansive. Do you understand the philosophy in that? It doesn't matter how hard it gets, we will always fight and try our hardest for that one _perfect_ cup of tea. Imagine that… and you won't _ever again_ be able to mess the cup just because of haste or indifference."

And he kissed America with as much passion and precision he held for making his tea.

That night when they got into bed together England continued with his lesson and taught the young American about patience and pleasure of proper tea serving. It was a good and thorough lesson and it was enjoyed immensely by both of them.

And the tea next morning was so perfect it left America singing about _England's Mountains Green_ the whole week.

…

_And did those feet in ancient time  
>Walk upon England's mountains green:<br>And was the holy Lamb of God,  
>On England's pleasant pastures seen!<em>

And did the Countenance Divine,  
>Shine forth upon our clouded hills?<br>And was Jerusalem builded here,  
>Among these dark Satanic Mills?<p>

Bring me my Bow of burning gold;  
>Bring me my Arrows of desire:<br>Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!  
>Bring me my Chariot of fire!<p>

I will not cease from Mental Fight,  
>Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand:<br>Till we have built Jerusalem,  
>In England's green and pleasant Land<p>

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><p><em>Notes:<em>

_This is my first story published in English._

_I have a strong passion for tea but I'm not British (I actually have some French ancestors, whoa!) and some habits mentioned in the story may be more common in my parts than in UK. (The tea with rum. Maybe it should be whiskey? Like in Irish coffee? I really don't know.) Also the difference between American and British English is quite unclear for me. And then there will probably be some… Mistakes (yeah, with great M)._

_I'm in desperate need for Beta! So if somebody is just a bit interested, please let me know… I have lots of ideas and bad confidence in my English. Also I am planning second part of this doodle (probably smuttier, M rated) but I don't know if it's worth it._

_Please, feel free to review and criticize._


	2. Chapter 2

How To Teach An American About Importance Of Tea

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><p>2. Gunpowder<p>

The evening was peaceful. Sunrays were streaming through a window, calm and gentle and just a tad lazy, spreading tiny rainbows on the carpet. The only noises disturbing the silence were the rustle of newspaper and '_tap, tap'_ the quiet sound of England's fingers taping on the table. Yes, the whole scene was pleasant and the sight truly beautiful, for England's features were obscured and softened by the evening light into something ethereal, almost motherlike – well, that's what America would think, if the though itself wasn't so embarrassing.

But then there was the tea.

The tea wasn't right.

America walked behind his lover and placed both hands onto his shoulders. He felt the hidden tension in them.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

England blinked. "O-of course I am! Why shouldn't I?"

"You're brooding."

The Englishman tried to hide his surprise. He didn't remember America being this perceptive! Frankly, he always though the boy was a bit on the denser side when it came to reading the atmosphere.

"Are you thinking of the past? Do you wanna talk about it?"

That was it! Either America recently read some How to Be a Perfect Boyfriend manuals or he was snatched away by a fairy and replaced by a Changeling! England furrowed his eyebrows and sank deeper in his armchair. "How the hell do you know what am I thinking?"

"I thought it was pretty obvious."

"_How,_ may I pry?"

The taller blond gave a halfhearted grin.

"The tea." He pointed on a half emptied cup. "It smells kinda smoky. Guess it's your fault for teaching me about that stuff. I've been paying more attention to what you drink lately and I've learned you're always drinking _this_ special kind of tea only when you're sad or thinking about something bad. "

"It… that is not…"

"England, please." America caressed the narrowed shoulders in a soothing manner. "I'm not stupid."

The smaller man sat in quiet for a while, refusing to answer. But as the caressing continued, his tension seemed to lessen and slowly he melted into the touch.

"Well then," he said hesitantly. "This is Gunpowder. Gunpowder green tea, as is the exact English name for this Chinese tea. And you're right, it smells like smoke. It's thick and strong and if I drink it plain it reminds me of a battlefield."

The American shifted uncomfortably. "Er… Our battlefield?"

"Sometimes. Not today, though." England turned his head away from his lovers face and up to the window. He was bathing in flowing colors of the sunset… his face turning from angelic to natural and then farther… to devilish orange, sickly pink and deep bloodlike crimson, which made the man look like he was in flames. America knew his own face was going through the same changes.

"I'm living for so _long_," sighed England. "I've held a sword… a longbow… a musket… and a machine gun. I've been in so many wars. Nobody should be in that many wars. Did you know that Gunpowder tealeaves are shaped like black powder grains? Or like tiny round bullets?"

"I didn't know but I do now. And for that other thing you said – I think _we _should. Yeah, it's depressing sometimes, but being in wars, seeing the deaths, hearing the screams… this is a part of who we are, England! We should defend our people, defend our lands and fight for what we believe is right. I know it. I'm not as old as you but I've been through many wars myself, too."

"Of course you have, my dear." England stood up, turned and smiled. "I'm going to make some more Gunpowder. Do you want a cup?"

America remained serious. "Okay."

And they sat and drank their tea in peace, each of them thinking about their own battlefields, until the last drop of Gunpowder tea was gone and the world outside darkened completely.

...

"I can't believe you stayed for this long." said England when he saw America yawning and stretching in his seat. "I _really_ am rubbing of on you, am I not?"

"Oh. Guess so. No mocking, please."

"Don't worry. I guess you're rubbing of on me too." England gave a soft laugh. His depression already ceased, just because of the simple presence of his lover, and now he was feeling like he should express his gratitude somehow. "Earlier," he started, "I've been thinking about next weekend together. My lands are giving me either somber or nostalgic moods these days, so… what would you say about spending some time in New York? No sleep, just shows and exhibitions, eating in your favorite god-forbidden fast foods and then some nice hot sex in our hotel room?"

"No tea?"

"No… _what? What? _Now, America, I admit you're being awfully good to me lately and I'd _really_ like to repay you, but you just can't ask impossible!"

The man laughed loudly. "It was just a joke!" he waved his hands. "Sorry, babe!"

And although England loved America being mature and understanding, he welcomed the obnoxious laughter too. He kind of missed the young man's usual cheerful self. Brooding was good for calm old nations; smile suited America's face the best.

"Anyway. I like your idea very much, even if it means you'll be having a cup of your drug every now and then. But!" America lifted his index finger and growled in the most threatening way: "No Gunpowder in the Big Apple! If you must have some tea with you then choose some less serious… _and boring_… kind."

"Oh, I have some ideas…" smirked England.

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><p><em>No smut for now (I'm saving it for NY and for different tea related ideas), just some relationship hurtcomfort without much_ hurt_ in it._ _Hope you don't mind. Thanks for reading. (Ideas or critics are accepted)_


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